Each Of Our Own
by darklogic09
Summary: They were strangers and lovers at the same time. Ten evidences of their familiarity with each other. /RyoSaku, one shot/


**For: **Jia845 (Fanfic/Fanart exchange of the _ryosaku community LJ. Huh. I was a bit late in posting this.)

**Warning:** Angst. Possible OOC (It's been a VERY long while since I last wrote a PoT piece. My sincerest apologies if it turns out to be OOC-packed… or something.). Randomness, maybe? D=

**Disclaimers: **I own nothing, save for the plot.

**Note:** Author formerly known as **darkwings09**. Actually, I created another account- _this_. So, I'm back?

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**Masquerade**

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**X**

[-She watches from afar (_only_ from afar, her presence never recognized) a boy sauntering down the sunlit path to the tennis clubroom coming in her view, boxes of chocolate in his hands. She didn't know what kind of expression he was wearing (_and_ she was afraid to find out) but the tension in the air was horrible, threatening to choke her nostrils. She sighs, looks away from the window and hears outside voices and words from her teacher falling on her ears.

She knows, since forever, that her presence can never reach his. The closest that it would ever come to that point was touching his _shadow_, but never his presence nor his attention.]

**X**

[She sees a world of red and white (for this moment) - a world that exists only in this very day, packed and filled with red and white roses and other things. A month has passed since she handed him over the token of her gratitude (or was it only out of tradition?) and she didn't have a clue if he'll give something in return (Probably an Echizen _wouldn't_). At least she knew she did something for him, and that was all that matters for the moment.

She shakes her head and continues to run, run and push her legs further, brushing the unwanted thoughts off. Now's not the time to wander through trivial matters, she thinks, and then she spots the familiar silhouette leaning its back against the Sakura tree. She momentarily pauses to catch up with her breathing rate, the steps she takes to approach the person in the next second vaguely hesitant _and_ light.

He lifts his gaze and throws something at her in a gentle arc. A rose- a _red_ rose (-her heart skips a beat, her pulse jumps-), it was.

But the nonchalant look he was giving her seemed distant, _hollow_, unsettling. She mutters her thanks, stuttering, and he merely smirks back.

(It seems to say '_It's not that I like you'_, and she smiles sadly at him, as if replying a kind '_I know.'_)

To put it simply, she likes him more than he can ever like her back.]

Looking back now, she wondered why her twelve-year old self fell naively into the clutches of unrequited love.

**X**

i. _Regret_

He had to go. She had to move on. They need not dwell. In the first place, they _weren't_ even allowed to dwell. It was another one of those facts in life that should've been implanted deep in both of their minds the very first time they set their eyes on each other.

She didn't need to dwell. The world is enormous enough to hold billions of men out there- and out of those billions hopefully, one of them is the person meant for _her_. Her case was hopeless; she knew that. He, on the other hand, didn't dwell- he believes tennis is his life, his world, and finding himself a girl is a trivial matter.

Bearing this in mind- this big awful fact, they bid each other good bye for the first and _probably _the last time in a bleak place filled with the tremendous roaring of the engines, and the wild voices of people echoing throughout.

Ryoma had other plans to think of, and Sakuno just had to have the urge to move on.

**X**

ii. _Pain_

There was a time when he wrote her a simple, harmless letter- the one she quite expected from him, his legible handwriting the one she was accustomed to seeing. She carefully unfolded the paper, smoothing its sides in the process, and with a sigh of incomprehensible feeling she began to read it, oblivious to the trembling of her hands.

_Ryuuzaki_- it started- and she drew a sharp intake of breath to pause, vision almost wobbling in eagerness to continue reading.

In an awkward, _un_Ryoma-like, his letter questioned her: …_How are you?_ Her lips curled up to a dry smile, nostalgia welling up within her.

The rest didn't seem to matter to her anymore, and she felt wet trails sticking on her cheek as she reached up and touched the slightly soaked skin area.

She drew her hand away from her skin, and it became clear to her- crystal clear that her vision was spoiled, and her eyes were watery. Tears _were_ forming.

She spun around and eyed her pen and own piece of paper.

---

She began writing, her fingers visibly tight around the pen, and she smiles to herself, hurt, and for him also, to conceal the pain inside.

There sat his letter, beside the worn-out frame containing memories back when Seigaku won against Fudomine, an eye patch still swathed over his eye.

_I'm going to be married soon, _the last line stated.

She longed to be free of any emotions as she wrote.

**X**

iii. _Temptation_

The night was clear, calm- but most certainly unnerving. She flicked her hand down to smooth the almost rumpled sides of her white shirt, and then made its way to her back, giving her long auburn hair a quick fix. Her heart was thumping uncontrollably against her chest.

She stole a glance at her watch. 10 o'clock in the evening, directly after her working hours.

She would thump her feet against the cold pavement every now and then, her complaints tightly kept inside her mouth. She heard footsteps, and she straightened herself to greet the incoming group.

---

"So, who's the unlucky bride?"

He scowled as he turned away, fingers wrapping more firmly around the can. The taller man chuckled in response, taking another sip of his drink.

"…Anyway, if you don't mind-" he gestured towards her fallen, fragile form, and faced Ryoma back again with an almost pleading face, "- can you take her home? I bet in that look she really won't get anywhere."

Ryoma's eyes were cold and questioning, holding his senpai's gaze with his evenly. He arched a brow. "Me?"

"Ryuuzaki-chan would appreciate that, you know, Echizen," another voice chimed in. Hesitant, light, he finally stood up, muttering a small 'uisu' as he walked his way towards her.

He took her by the hand first, his grip almost solid around her soft pale wrist, and his eyes slid close when her coldness seeped in through his skin.

Reluctant _but_ willing, he silently cursed to himself the irony as he treated her not like a mere potato sack to be swung about his shoulder, but he carried her anyway, bridal-style.

He didn't care to notice how cold she was. He was complete and warm in himself.

Or so he thought. (-it was unmistakably warm, he thinks, despite the coldness giving off of her. Logic tells him it wasn't supposed to work that way.)

---

Weary and burdened, he vigilantly opened the door and clicked on the lights, his tired eyes adjusting in the sudden brightness. He ambled his way across the living room towards her room, and didn't bother taking his shoes off.

With a sigh of exhaustion he finally laid her down to bed, carefully placing her head on the pillow first to not to wake her up. His eyes were fixed on her face, noting the scarlet flush of her cheeks.

He turned to exit, but just to make sure he checked her breathing, awkwardly fingering her buttons. He managed to loosen her shirt a bit, undoing two of the buttons, the exposure of her pale neck coming into view. It was _unfair_- how she can feign innocence and purity even in her sleep. He found himself leaning closer and closer until he can smell the awful scent of alcohol in the warmth of her breath.

And then he stopped, blinking, her slightest stir triggering his senses. He moved away and apart, thinking that he wasn't supposed to that- he has _no _right. And that he shouldn't in the first place.

He cursed under his breath and decided he had to _thank_ his male hormones for that. (He asked himself- what their lives turned into, why the restrictions, why _this _way. It simply won't do.)

That night, he dreamt of his _wedding_ day, his bride a mere outline of an unknown person, but he recalled the forlorn eyes gazing at him, pleading, but her smile was present, and not genuine.

---

She jolted up awake and dazed, fingering her collar only to discover that that two of her uppermost buttons were open.

**X**

iv. _Truth_

They met again in a surreal world, this time in their dreams.

"I didn't expect you to be here inside my head." A nonchalant smirk.

"Nor did I, Ryoma-kun," a small fit of giggle. They were both unguarded at the moment.

He gazed down though, his eyes fixing themselves on the nonexistent floor. "It's been a while."

"…It is," she agreed weakly, "a-and, it's also been a while since Tomoka saw you, too."

He looked at her again, raising a brow. "Who?"

She blinked, tilting her head on the side.

"Ah," he said, barely a whisper, "Osakada." She nodded in reply.

"Ryoma-kun," she began again, her voice surprisingly low, "…I heard that you're getting married." She didn't want to question him more after that.

His eyes were level and nigh unreadable, and he shrugged. "True, but I didn't approve yet. The old man obviously has a bad taste."

"Huh?" she asked.

A grimace. "There's someone else," he added as-a-matter-of-factly. Opening up wasn't his cup of tea. That, she was surely aware of.

The bleak world started fading away, along with the wholeness of her dream, with just the ring of her alarm. She didn't understand him at all.

**X**

v. _Possessiveness_

He didn't realize it was beginning to grow in him. He never felt this human before, even though he is but a _human_. Probably, it was just his selfishness- which he mistook that night.

Her eyes were shut tight in fear and perplexity and _anger_, her hands balling into fists. Her grandmother draped the sweater around her trembling shoulders, and he stood immobile on her side with the rest of his seniors.

_It was unfair_, she thought in anguish. Life is never fair, and toying around with someone's feelings is just another one of those games fate plays.

"He didn't have to hurt her," Oishi started in a husky voice, breaking the ice as they knew he would. Ryoma felt his insides twist.

Her head dropping low, silently, agonizingly- wishing she hasn't met that bastard of a man. Her feelings were fragile, delicate, and the latest one who took possession of them never handled them carefully. Her grandmother welcomed their guests in, reprimanding them first on why did they have to come in such a merciless weather condition.

Ryoma acted _logically_, and secretly proceeded to work out his plan.

A few moments later, she heard him on the phone, and _heard_ in his dangerous tone the smirk.

"Ryuuzaki is _mine_- in every sense of the word," he talked playfully, and her eyes grew wide, "She was never yours. I wonder how you managed to break something that _wasn't_ even yours."

Shivers went down the length of her spine.

"Theft, perhaps? _Mada mada da ne_."

She felt the urge to thank him for that. Some other time.

**X**

vi. _Carefree_

She flashed a shy smile at him as she ungracefully stepped down the stairs. Her hair was in wild disarray, and the thunder rolled above the skies in great tremor. He frowned slightly, but proceeded to accompany her outside anyway.

The pitter-patter of the downpour was almost deafening on his ears, and he was cautious.

Out of the blue, she snatched the umbrella off of his loosened grip, catching him off guard. He blinked at her, blankly, and his expression twisted to mild annoyance.

"_Oi"_ came his husky voice. He sighed when he heard no response from her, and chased after the slowly retreating figure instead amid the rain. Her smile _was_ challenging him, he thought amusingly.

He took his obvious advantage- he _is_ faster, after all. The strength of the typhoon and the wildness of the wind carried away the umbrella.

Now, he had to chase after the damned thing, too?

With one leap he cornered her, accidentally slipping in the process. It was an awkward fall, and he just had to swallow his pride and hold on to her for the sake of his life.

Or perhaps, merely for his pride, _again._

She stumbled down the cold, wet ground with him on top- and it was, visibly, an _uncomfortable_ position. He glanced down at her, eyes widening.

"You know…" he started bluntly, uncharacteristically not knowing how to finish his sentence, "…That shirt is quite- revealing." A smirk tugged the corners of his lips as she blushed in full crimson. That, coming from an engaged guy, was not really appealing at all.

"R-" she stuttered, wanting to slap him then and there. Since when did he acquire such _raging_ hormones, she knew she was better off not knowing it. He blinked, but inwardly urged her to say it. Her hand was trembling, _itching_ to slap the hell out of him.

"…R-RYOMA-KUN!"

**X**

vii. _Forbidden_

"Ah," she lowered her gaze, refusing to meet the eyes he was using to scrutinize her, both hurt and content, "…But I have to catch my flight Ryoma-kun. Otherwise-"

"-Otherwise?" he inquired further, his voice cold and solid (there was an edge in his tone, now). Her stubborn attitude irritated him.

"…Ryoma-kun," her voice came out barely as a whisper now, soft but sharp, "_You're_ getting married."

"So?" He arched a brow.

"Mou." (Why is he making _all_ of these harder to handle?) A sigh escaped her lips.

"Huh?

"Ryoma-kun," she began again, trying almost desperately to get her message across, "… I-" (_Think_) Well, I- need to go now."

"No," he sounded like a child now, almost in a sulking forlorn voice, "I don't think so."

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist into a tight grip, but she didn't resist, didn't turn away- but simply, _quite_ awkwardly, stared at him.

"I can't afford to lose you now," he admitted pointedly, frowning.

_(--You're staying. That's because you have to attend his marriage- with someone else,_ her mind echoes.)

"_Eh?_" she blinked, utterly baffled at his words, his _sentence_. She didn't understand why he needed to say that, why he _mentioned_ that in the first place. She never believed that he, of all people, wouldn't make _any_ sense.

He raised his hand, tugged down the brim of his cap, and murmured something (--the engine elicits a deafening roar from the plane--) she cannot forget.

**X**

viii. _Farewell_

Her dress was nothing but formal- well-clad in all white and simplicity. Awestruck and somehow- _shameful_, she watched as the guests swiveled their way in fresh grace towards the main hall. Awkwardly, timidly- a sigh escaped her lips. She felt plain and simple all over compared to them.

"You came."

Startled, she tensely looked up, blinking. He was a depiction of dazzling splendor (golden eyes bearing an enticing hue, raven hair unusually prim) - and for the first time she felt jealousy flooding through her.

"Y-Yes."

He adjusted his collar. She found the floor fascinating as her gaze fixed down at it.

"Later, Ryuuzaki."

Auburn eyes turned to look at up him, the sides of her mouth twitching upward to form a smile- resentful, forlorn, but she had to let him go.

_Best wishes… Ryoma-kun._ The words were stuck in the tip of her tongue, stubbornly refusing to come out. She bit her lip as his image began fading away amongst the crowd.

**X**

ix. _Illogical_

Imagine her surprise when he spotted him outside, striding through the muddy path towards the tennis courts. She stole a glance at her watch. His wedding ceremony will start any minute now- but she was sure she just had her eyes checked the other day- she can see him clearly enough.

_Ryoma-kun!_

She cleared her throat.

He sensed her presence, and spun around.

"R-Ryoma-kun!" _(What are you doing? It's getting started!) _Her cheeks flushed as she called at him, "It will begin any minute now…"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Let it be."

She shook her head. "It's _your_ wedding, Ryoma-kun! How can you just miss it out like that?" Her voice was evident now, almost reprimanding, angry, lost.

He arched a brow. "Does it matter?"

Still skeptic, disbelieving, she trailed after him and headed towards the courts.

---

_-pok-_

"Ryoma-kun…"

He ignored her. He was a man of patience, but this girl was getting into his nerves.

_-pok-_

"_Ryoma-kun_," she firmly called out in slight annoyance, "Why are you not attending you own-"

She abruptly paused, eyes widening in fear. She never saw him glaring at her- until just now. Those golden rich orbs were glaring passionately at her, and she assumed horridly that he was angry.

She kept her mouth shut, but she fought back- glaring at him without plucking enough courage. He went on.

_-pok-_

Silence erupted.

"…It was merely an arrangement," he began explaining, calm present in his low voice, " –set by my Oyaji, as always." The next hit was harder on the ball.

_-pok-_

"He had a lot of lame excuses, that old man," his face was still indifferent, but she can tell that his eyes were telling an unlike expression, "…It's nothing important, isn't it."

It was more of a statement than a question. She couldn't speak.

_-pok-_

"I have no reason to marry, anyway," he added as-a-matter-of-factly, frowning. Her eyes seem to droop low, back to gazing at the ground, unexplainably hurt.

Suddenly- everything seem to be fast-paced, and a moment later he was already standing in front of her, golden orbs shining in anticipation as they looked down at her. She blinked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"I can make an exception, if you like," He smirked, amused, as her mind tried to register and take in his words. She felt her hair strands standing up to their ends.

"…What do you mean by-"

"If I'm going to thread down the path to selfishness by doing that," he cut her off, nearing his face towards hers. His eyes were nonchalant again, and his mouth was twitching to a frown. "–I might as well pull you with me."

She gasped softly, irritated, _speechless_. He was still smirking when he wrapped his fingers around her shoulders, plunging his lips down to hers in a gentle force, earning the barest sound of a moan. He was still holding the light kiss, feeling her tense but submissive under his grip, trying faintly to break away from him.

It was true. She didn't know. But- it was a fact.

_He raised his hand, tugged down the brim of his cap, and murmured- "We're not finished yet. I want you to stay. We have tons of things to work on, still." She cannot forget. _

**X**

x._ Finality_

He tossed a velvet box at her in an ungraceful arc.

She blinked, dazed- she caught the said thing in time.

"Ryoma-kun?"

"Don't wait for me to say those cheesy things," he rolled his eyes, "I'm not that type of a man. Sorry."

She nodded, smiling brightly, but not of hurt.

**X**

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**End**

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Reviews and feedbacks are most certainly welcome. Thanks a whole lot for reading. ^^


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